Lately this strange feeling has taken me over. Instead of being content with just sitting inside all day, being online, playing my guitar or gluing things into my journal, I have been abandoning it all and just going to play outside. I even wanted to get some feathers to put in my hair. I have never been much of an outside person. When I was young everyone in my family used to comment on how I was the quiet, inside one. Over the years though, I think I let everyone pigeonhole me as "the inside girl" and I stopped going outside to play at all. Then I grew up some more and nobody seemed to need to go outside anymore. Everything anyone really needed was on the inside. We could loose ourselves in someone else's life on television, or while away the hours chatting online.
While I still go out quite often, I never really just went outside and looked at everything. So now I have this little spot in my garden where I go to walk around and explore and watch. There is another garden fences off in the middle, the old, abandoned vegetable patch. It's so overgrown, whereas the grass around it is cut short and blunt. It's exploding with pumpkins and vines too. I would go in if I weren't so afraid of snakes. There is a tree full of yellow flowers, and when the wind blows the petals just trickle off and drift to the ground. I can lay down on my back and watch the clouds, or lay down on my stomach and watch the ants.
I am glad to go outside again. I truly feel like Mary going into her garden and, everyday, feeling a bit stronger and a bit happier. It's the magic. The magic of the world.
That's a wonderful thought. I'd like to go outside and play, too, again.
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